


Ancient Water

by woollen_pharaohs



Category: Actor RPF, Midnight Special RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Polyamory, RPF, actor rpf/director rpf, idek how to tag this??, jeff has big puppy dog eyes for mike we can all see it, this is a very serious fic in which two men think the world of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 13:06:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15730002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woollen_pharaohs/pseuds/woollen_pharaohs
Summary: Jeff misses Mike, a lot. His family decide to invite the Shannons over for a family celebration.





	Ancient Water

**Author's Note:**

> literally nobody cares about this except me but just watch the midnight special interviews ok there's something there i s2g

Jeff keeps a quiet life. A modest one. He doesn’t do social media, doesn’t do twitter, instagram, or much of facebook really. It’s not that he doesn’t get it. He knows from Ben what it’s like. He just doesn’t have an interest in it. He just wants to make movies and either people like them or they don’t, and that’s fine. He likes it that way. Wants to keep his home life separate from his filmmaking career, as long as everyone’s happy. Ben will come on to do a soundtrack here and there, and Missy will join him for award ceremonies, but other than that, his home life is well kept in Austin, Texas.

 

They gather at the grandparents’ house in Little Rock for family holidays. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s. A house too big for just Mom and Dad but just big enough for the Nichols children and grandchildren. There’s always room for more, though. Always room for girlfriends and boyfriends and friends of the family. Always a spare bed to pull out or a futon to unfold, so it only made sense to invite the Shannons too.

 

He doesn’t mean to linger when he greets Michael with a kiss on the cheek, but he does. Lingers because seeing Mike after so long makes him speechless. Makes him weak and pink and like his body is filled with tiny little moths fluttering in the cage of himself. He peels back, the stiffness in his shoulders permitted to relax when he sees their wives close and smiling. Kate’s hand on the small of his back, playfully nudging him down the hall. Michael’s arm slides firmly around his waist, securing him when they face the whole family not for the first time, but Jeff appreciates the thought.

 

His brothers, Matthew and Ben, prepare the fireworks on the lawn, arranging the fireshow to burst over the lake when the sun sets.  Their wives and daughters, Michael’s too, help with the food and the small children and after kissing and elbowing Jeff and Michael out of the kitchen, they graciously insist on Jeff and Michael having some time to catch up. It has been a long time.

 

They lean on the rail of the verandah and look down at the yard’s rolling greens and the depression at the lip of the lake where Jeff’s brothers are lining up the fuses, the tree-lined skyline dipped in glistening silver from the city behind. They’re quiet, close. Michael takes Jeff’s hand and holds it against his core, softly caressing Jeff’s palm and spreading out each finger and Jeff feels weak with happiness. The sun glows low, warms him as much as Michael warms his heart, the comforting sound of their families chatting inside the house sings down his spine.

 

“I like the moustache,” Jeff says.

 

Michael’s smile crinkles his eyes. “Kate’s gonna want you to report back to her if it tickles your fur as much as it does hers.”

 

Michael’s always had a quick tongue. Jeff wishes he’d said that out loud but instead he blushes all over. Jeff can feel the shape of Michael’s smile on the top of his hand when Mike presses a kiss there.

 

He cherishes the time God has allowed for him here, with Mike, with their families together. Cherishes the quiet they share, the loving ambience behind them and the twinkling fires in the sky when Ben sets a small one off early in the settling dusk.

 

Kate joins them briefly. Her small hand on the back of Mike’s neck as she pulls him down to her height for a kiss. She pulls something out of the bag slung over her shoulder and hands it to her husband, who lets go of Jeff’s hand to accept it. Simmering lukewarm on the rail for a short moment before Kate covers it, a quick kiss and a message of love before she returns inside.

 

Mike watches her go over his shoulder still tilted, then turns back to Jeff. He hands over the present.

 

“Sylvie wanted me to get you The Very Hungry Caterpillar,” Mike says, smoothing down his moustache. “Thought that would be too tongue in cheek.”

 

Jeff carefully peels the tape away from the soft brown paper, slides the blue ribbon down and let's it drop to the ground. Mike tells him that the ribbon is Kate’s touch. Blue looped on the floor; an open button down and jeans knotted together and a trace of clear tape on a naked arm. Jeff tells Mike that the room with a lone queen for the two of them had been his wife's touch. The paper wrap is the last to come apart, sliding off Mike's square shoulders and shrugging off his hard chest, the strength in the bone and the spine and the stories in the flesh in between.

 

With their layers off and covers too, they lay open together. Skin to skin, limb to limb. They flow together like ancient water; evaporating and spilling out over the country and passing through streams and rivers and joining again in the great ocean. The two of them in schools of love and life. Learning and loving and feeling the swell of love and the thick of it in Mike's mouth and the taste of himself on his lips when they kiss.

 

Nothing has to be said between them. They make love again quietly, but not silently as before. Breaths and barely muffled grunts and a moan that makes Mike's chest tremble  and makes Jeff shiver.

 

They've missed each other.

 

After, Jeff pulls Michael's head into his lap and they curl together in the bay window. They gaze out of the foggy panes that frame the fireworks bursting across the night sky. Jeff pats Michael’s thick hair, the coarseness of it catching in age. Mike keeps his eyes closed only to flutter open at a loud firework bang booming above the house. Jeff looks down into his eyes, the darkest blue. Midnight blue. When he gleans a cheeky grin, Jeff sees the craftsmanship in how God imbued the night and all its mysterious beauty into Mike's irises, and made the sky reflect his twinkling eyes.

 

He didn't mind the moustache. He'll have to let Kate know.

  



End file.
